Egg(ing 'em on)
by CaptainOzone
Summary: When Artemis asked for a distraction, she didn't intend to find herself on a suicide mission. Target? She wished she didn't know. The means? Ha. Ask Robin. It was all his idea, anyway. (Or: Robin wants to egg Wayne Manor. Because reasons). Rated T for language.


Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice

I give all the credit to ErinNovelist (agrestenoir) for practically titling the fic. The rest of it? I have no idea where it came from. Have fun.

* * *

 **Egg(ing 'em on)**

Artemis digs the ball of her palms into her strained eyes and throws back her head, a low groan building in her throat. The decrepit laptop on her lap bobbles precariously, and a vindictive part of her wishes she could help it on its way. Watching the life flicker from its stupid, thumb-printed screen as it crashes to the floor won't delay the inevitable, but it will certainly make her feel better.

Conner snickers beside her, and she sits upright to shoot him a heated glare. The clone is unimpressed, of course, and that leaves Artemis scowling as she looks back down at the offending Word document. It is littered with red markings and highlighted text, all courtesy of M'gann's thorough editing.

Artemis should look at it like she looks at any other challenge she faces—as an opportunity to improve, as a chance to become _better_ than her best—but right now, Artemis can only feel crushing disappointment and dread. All that work…

"You're thinking too hard."

Artemis half-turns in her seat to face her friend. The Martian recently "cut her hair," exchanging her long, layered style for an edgy pixie cut that emphasized her angular features. It was confident, striking, and downright sexy, and Artemis was the first to encourage her to keep the look. M'gann was rewarded for it, in the end, if Conner's flustered reaction was anything to go by.

Unbeknownst to Superboy, Robin managed to record the whole thing. If Conner was going to continue being an unhelpful dick, Artemis thinks she'll need to bribe Robin for the rights to that blackmail. For future use, of course.

"I suppose you'd know, wouldn't you?" Artemis grumbles.

M'gann smiles, but instead of soothing Artemis, it only agitates her. She doesn't want pity. She just wants to be _done_. "You're a good writer, Artemis," M'gann says, "but your voice is all wrong. I couldn't hear _you_ in there."

"It has to be perfect," she argues.

"But it doesn't have to be mechanical."

Turning away from M'gann and scrolling ineffectively back and forth between two pages, Artemis scans the commentary again. She's struggled with the prompt from the very beginning, and it has taken her a long time to get this first draft up to even half of her usual standard. Her gut plummets as she realizes what she needs to do.

"I have to start over. From scratch."

M'gann squeezes Artemis' shoulder. "That's not such a bad idea. You can think about the prompt some more? Maybe find a different perspective? I've heard that American colleges—"

The familiar whir of the zeta tube cuts M'gann off, and the three occupants of the room focus their attention on the entrance to the transport room. Kaldur, a towel draped over his shoulder, emerges from the training room instantly, ready to report for duty should Batman have a new mission for them.

Artemis prays it's Batman. She could use the outlet. Or a healthy dose of action. Whichever. Anything to get her mind off college applications.

"Robin," the security system announces coolly. "B-01."

…well, Robin will have to do.

She shoves her laptop aside as the Boy Wonder slides into the common room. He's had another growth spurt in the last few weeks, and though he isn't nearly as tall or broad as Wally, he now has an inch or so on her, something he lords over her every chance he has now he isn't the shrimp of the team.

It annoys her to no end. And he knows that. It is intolerable. _He_ is intolerable.

But at the end of the day, no matter how often Robin gets on her last nerve, they are the only two without powers on the team, and as such, she and he have an unspoken, and special, bond. That aside, he's her favorite sparring partner, and if there was ever a time she needed to spar to clear her head...

Rising to her feet, Artemis paces forward to meet Robin. " _Please_ tell me you're here with an amazing—"

She hesitates the moment she sees him, her gut crawling with discomfort. Maybe it is her familiarity with his body language that's the first clue, or maybe it's due to something else entirely, but it is clear to Artemis that something isn't right. Robin enters the room with his too-bright smile, a cheery greeting forming on his lips, but that aura, that presence unique to Robin…

That is tinged with the gloom and gray of his mentor.

"—distraction," Artemis finishes slowly, her eyes narrowing as she looks him up and down.

The last time she saw him like this, it had been after a massive breakout at Arkham. What happened during those hellish days of chaos is a bit hush-hush, but rumor on the street is Two-Face had gotten hold of Robin. Not for long, Artemis heard, but long enough to do the bird some serious damage before Batman found him.

The Team knew better than to ask. Anytime Robin let something slip about the more…nauseating details of missions he took with Batman in Gotham, someone ended up upset. Or disturbed.

Correction: very much disturbed.

Robin blinks behind his sunglasses, looking a little taken aback by her ambush, but suddenly, the shadows clear, a downright evil grin spreading across his face.

She is on guard immediately: she has seen that grin often enough to know that trouble will follow in its wake.

"As it just so happens," Robin says, jostling the grocery bag slung over his wrist. "I might have the _perfect_ distraction."

"What kind of distraction?" Artemis asks warily.

Robin's grin grows. "A _fun_ one," he says, eyes flitting around the room. "Is Wally here?"

Artemis shakes her head and can't help the warm affection and pride in her voice when she answers, "He's volunteering at his old middle school's science fair today."

"Will he be back before dark?"

"Probably not. Iris and Barry wanted to take him out for dinner."

"Perfect."

… _Perfect_?! What…?

Panicking, Artemis runs through a mental checklist of important dates. Wally's birthday isn't until next month. As far as she's aware, no one's birthday is coming up anytime soon. The Team's annual Christmas party is practically planned, too, months in advance, and Secret Santa assignments aren't being released until December, as per usual.

…and that's it, isn't it? There aren't any surprise parties on the horizon, no reason to keep secrets from Kid Mouth, who, while loveable, is easily overexcited and can't help but blab about the things that are _meant to be kept under wraps_.

(Nooooo, of course she isn't still salty about him ruining The Red Wedding for her (1). Not at all).

So if there's no reason to keep any surprises from Wally and his big mouth, why in the world…?

Yeah, something isn't right here. Wally is Robin's go-to partner in crime. He always looks to Wally first whenever he has a crazy plan or an elaborate plot, mostly because Wally is usually the moron who vouches for Robin, who jumps at the chance to contribute to whatever chaos is brewing. Her boyfriend and his best friend feed off each other's energy and that…often breeds disaster.

Artemis has a feeling she wants nothing to do with this.

Across the room, Kaldur leans against the door jam and folds his arms. Their leader looks appropriately wary. "What do you have in mind, Robin?" he asks.

Robin's grin grows, becoming more unnerving with every passing second. It rivals the Joker's, and that's saying something. "I want to go egg Bruce Wayne's mansion."

Artemis can't help it. She bursts into startled laughter, and once she starts, she can't stop. She can't breathe she's laughing so hard, and she looks at the bemused faces of her teammates, who somehow don't understand that this is probably one of Robin's best practical jokes ever. And what a damn shame that is. This is fucking hilarious. No way does he…

Her laughter curdles in her throat as she watches Robin pull out a full carton of eggs from the bag at his wrist, his manic smile morphing into a far more familiar smirk.

"You're not serious," Artemis deadpans.

Balancing the carton on an open palm, Robin places the other across his heart, as if mortally offended. "Of course I'm serious! You wound me, Artemis. I'm always serious."

Artemis gives him a flat look, and M'gann, the innocent sweetheart she is, pipes up, "I'm sorry, but what is 'egging?'"

Robin's face lights up like Christmas has just come early, and as he's about to launch into explanation, Artemis swipes the eggs from him. "Absolutely not. You are not perverting M'gann's innocence with your juvenile shit."

"It's exactly like it sounds!" Robin exclaims excitedly, choosing to pretend as though Artemis hasn't just spoken. The turd. "We go and throw eggs! At whatever we want!"

Kaldur's brow furrows, and because he's _sane,_ he obviously has reservations. "Why would we partake in such activities?"

"Because it's fun?"

"It sounds like vandalism," Conner comments.

"That's because it is!" Artemis agrees before Robin can say another word. Turning a fierce glare onto the Gothamite (who should know better, goddammit), she says, "And you want to infiltrate _Wayne Manor_ of all places? Do you have a death wish, Boy Blunder?"

M'gann cocks her head. "Bruce Wayne backs the Justice League, doesn't he? Why would he…I mean, I've seen him on TV. He seems nice, if a bit…distant."

"He's also super rich and notoriously paranoid! His place is locked down like a fortress!" Artemis narrows her eyes when Robin snorts derisively. "They say even Batman can't break in without tripping something."

Robin chuckles, and it sounds off. "And don't you think this is exactly why we should do this?"

"Ummmm, no," Artemis says. "I'd rather not get zapped out of existence today, thanks."

"…zapped out of existence?" M'gann repeats slowly.

"Noooo, guys, c'mon!" Robin says. "You're looking at this all wrong! Sure, no one has gotten past Wayne's front gates before without him already knowing, and there are some… _very_ exaggerated rumors on the streets because of that— _thank you, Artemis_ —"

Indignant, Artemis opens her mouth to defend herself, but Robin smiles disarmingly and says, "—but I've looked into it. It's all urban legend."

"When I was a kid, Batman was urban legend," Artemis points out. "Until suddenly he wasn't."

"Was he really?" Conner asks, sounding genuinely intrigued.

"He's _Batman,"_ Robin says flippantly, as though that explains everything. (And it does, usually. Most Gothamites and nearly all of the capes have long since accepted that simple sentence as an explanation for just about anything). _"_ And that was before my time," Robin adds. "The point is: Bruce Wayne's security system is _just_ a super good security system. And I wanna crack at it."

Kaldur's gaze is severe and disapproving as he says, "You see this as a challenge."

" _Yes_!" Robin says, in an almost exasperated tone. "And it's a fantastic opportunity! Look."

He tosses the grocery bag aside and taps away at his ever-present gauntlet. A holographic screen of specs and blueprints erupts before them, and he swipes this way and that way, scrolling between different screens, forgetting not all of them can comprehend whatever the hell it is he's showing them.

Artemis has long since gotten over her irritation at Robin whenever he does this, but today she just really wants to sock him. Hard. Maybe whatever brain damage he acquired since the last time she saw him will sort itself out with another good blow to the head.

"I've done most of the hard work already," Robin says. "Getting these was no walk in the park, let me tell you, but it was worth it. And I've learned something very interesting."

"And what's that?" M'gann asks.

"The manor's security system is an elicit love child of Wayne Tech, S.T.A.R. Labs, and _LexCorp_."

Perking up immediately, Conner asks. "LexCorp?" When Robin nods, Conner folds his arms. "I'm in."

"Conner!" M'gann scolds.

Conner is wholly unashamed. "If we can potentially expose a fault in some LexCorp tech, shouldn't it be our duty to do so?"

Okay. Wow. If that isn't some personal bias getting in the way of rational thought, Artemis doesn't know what is.

"I don't know…" M'gann fusses. "Conner, what would Superman think if you went through with this? We'd be trespassing! And Mr. Wayne has probably done more for us than we know!"

Conner shrugs. "What does that matter? This Wayne guy shouldn't have done business with Luthor in the first place. If anything, we'd be doing him a favor by exposing the holes in his security system."

"Really mature, Conner," Artemis says as Robin nearly crows with glee.

"But he's right!" Robin says. "Besides, knowledge is power. Tackling this now could prove beneficial in the future if we find ourselves toe-to-toe with Luthor. Or with a wayward scientist from S.T.A.R. Labs or a crooked Wayne Enterprises employee selling out their R&D secrets. Or any combination of the three being blackmailed by a Big Bad, because, you know, that's just our luck."

"These are big names," Kaldur muses. There's a contemplative gleam in his eyes that Artemis does not like. "This could be a lucrative exercise."

The whole world's going mad, Artemis is convinced. Either that or their team has successfully managed to corrupt the straight-and-narrow Kaldur, and that is a sure sign the world isn't just going mad: it's doomed to end. Tonight. "You can't be serious, Kaldur. And _you!_ " Artemis rounds on Robin. "Does Batman usually encourage you to go breaking into rich white guys' homes?"

"Well…"

"…Unbelievable."

"Wait, hold on, Arty," Robin says, grabbing her arm as she turns away. "You make a good point."

He minimizes the blueprints still hovering in the air and pulls up a different program, and because Artemis so doesn't have time for more games, she rolls her eyes and pulls away, only to turn back when there's a small beep and a voice recording begins to play.

 _"…you or any of the others can successfully get through the manor's security without getting caught, I'll…"_

It's Batman's voice, that much is clear, but it also _isn't_. And it's super weird. His voice sans growl is milder, less gruff, and perhaps even deeper and richer than she's ever heard it before.

This…is this the man behind the mask?

 _"You'll what?"_ came Robin's voice, an obvious challenge.

Amusement colors the Dark Knight's tone (and, um, what? Batman has a sense of humor since _when_?) as he says, " _By all means, give it your best shot. It's not going to happen._ "

Robin stops the voice recording and powers down his gauntlet, eyebrows raising over the rim of his sunglasses as if to say _well?_

"And you couldn't lead with that because…?" Conner says.

Robin pouts, and it shouldn't be cute, but it kinda is. And that's when Artemis' cynical gut kicks an even more violent warning. One only needs to follow the trail of bemused and embarrassed criminals Robin leaves in his wake to know they frequently underestimate him, and Artemis will bet a whole Tupperware-full of her Mom's báhn xéo that his unfairly convincing puppy-dog pout has everything to do with that.

"I had _hoped_ my friends would trust me without having to get explicit permission from Bats," the Boy Wonder whines.

"And maybe they would," Artemis says in a low tone, "if you weren't a little troll who leads a conversation with crazy shit like, 'I want to go egg Bruce Wayne's mansion.'"

"What _is_ it with you and Bruce Wayne?" Robin asks, wrinkling his nose. "You're as bad as Wally."

Artemis freezes. "What about Wally?"

Robin waves a hand. "Never mind that." Ha. No. Artemis can't drop it just like that, but Robin presses her. "So? What's got you so scared of a ditzy socialite?"

Gritting her teeth, Artemis hisses, "I'm on his scholarship, okay? He's paid for most of my recent education, which means I owe him." Robin has the decency to look a little apologetic at that. "And I've heard—"

"Urban myths," Robin repeats, and there's a hint of irony in his voice when he adds, "Bruce Wayne is harmless."

"I've _heard_ ," Artemis says again, "that it's the butler you have to watch out for, and that's not urban myth. That's straight from the mouth of Bruce Wayne's ward."

Not that Richard Grayson is anywhere near a reliable source of intel: he's nearly as big of a troll as Robin is, and you can never really tell with him. But if it does the trick…

"I have it on good authority Richard Grayson and his butler are out right now. As we speak. That means our window of opportunity is closing." Robin's eyes roam the room. "Any other concerns?"

"…must we throw eggs?" Kaldur asks. "Are we not capable of infiltrating Mr. Wayne's property covertly?"

"It's a waste of food," M'gann agrees. "I could use those eggs for the new cake I want to try baking later? I've never done angel food cake before."

Sighing, Robin reclaims the eggs from Artemis and says, "Fine. Okay. The egging is supposed to be the fun part, but I _guess_ you guys don't have to participate as long as we all go and prove to Batman we can totally do this."

Oh. Sympathy flashes through Artemis. Wally told her once, in confidence, that Robin feels a consistent and unyielding pressure to make Batman proud, to constantly validate his position as one half of the Dynamic Duo, and even now, after two years of knowing Robin and working under the Batman, it frustrates and saddens her.

Because there's really nothing left for Robin to prove. And if there's one thing that can elicit any sort of emotion from the stoic Dark Knight, it's Robin. Everyone else can see it, even if they can't acknowledge it without being on the receiving end of a Bat-glare.

Despite her understanding of Robin's motivations, she isn't any keener on the prospect of trespassing on Bruce Wayne's property. Call her superstitious, but her gut still says this is a very bad idea.

"And if we get caught?" M'gann asks. For as hesitant as the Martian sounded earlier, she's certainly sounds like she's already thinking of this as an Actual Thing We're Going To Do, and Artemis shoots her a look of betrayal.

Robin does not hide his victorious smirk well at all. Little bastard. She is going to have to have another serious talk with him about using his powers of manipulation for Good because he's obviously not using them for anything but evil, evil purposes right now.

"We won't," Robin says confidently. "We've gotten out of worse, haven't we?"

"That much is true," Conner says, standing to his feet. M'gann reluctantly follows, her expression uneasy.

"If it makes you feel better, M'gann," Robin says, "I'll take all the blame."

Stepping away from the wall, Kaldur protests immediately. "We cannot expect—"

"Nope," Robin interrupts. "This is my mission. My idea. We'll go in civvies, and if we do get caught, you can tell them I dared you guys to follow me in. No harm, no foul."

"Robin…" M'gann begins.

"Trust me. Please?"

Artemis scowls. He's playing dirty. He _knows_ M'gann can't possibly refuse that.

To literally no one's surprise, M'gann is swayed. Her skin pales, and her lounge-around-the-Cave clothes morph into nondescript jeans, black V-neck t-shirt, and dark pea coat. "I'll go," she announces.

"As will I," Kaldur says. "I wish to learn a little more of hacking from you, Robin."

In a show of refusal, Artemis plops down on the armrest of a couch and crosses one leg over the other. "I'm staying here."

"Awww, c'mon, Artemis!" Robin pleads. "I'll make it worth your whiii~le!"

When she gives him a sharp look, he smiles, showing off all his teeth, and Artemis knows she's screwed.

~…~

She doesn't know how they do it. She supposes the whirlwind of energy and sheer determination that is Robin is enough of an explanation, but she also realizes that it's mostly because Robin's done his homework.

Actually, she suspects he's done _all_ the homework, even as he meticulously and slowly leads them, step-by-step, through how to cheat Bruce Wayne's security system.

No alarms, no dogs, no laser beams or floodlights…it's all very anti-climactic, but even still, Artemis is wired with adrenaline, ready to make a break for it the moment shit hits the fan.

As he directs them through the process, Robin makes it all seem very easy, and instead of asking him why he wanted them to join him in the first place when he seems to be doing just fine on his own, Artemis shoots Wally a text, informing him that his best friend is a cunning little asshat, a demon in disguise, and a fucking show-off to boot.

She attaches the picture they took at Bruce Wayne's open, deactivated front gate to prove it.

She doesn't catch Wally's response, as it seems the entire group has ditched her at the gate and is sneaking its way around the perimeter of Wayne's property. Her heart plummets, and cursing under her breath, she shoves her phone into her pocket and darts after them before they can disappear.

As she slinks across the darkened grounds, she tries to remind herself that this, that flirting with the devil, might just be worth it. She doesn't see how he'll pull it off, but Robin's word carries a lot of weight, and literally everyone _—_ from the children of Atlantis to the friggin' Guardians of the Universe—knows this.

And if it all falls through…at least she's gotten the distraction she asked for.

Sliding effortlessly into the shadows of an oak tree, she finds Robin, his gaze fixated up the drive. "What the _hell_ , Robin?" she hisses under her breath. "This wasn't part of the deal. We did what we came here to do, so why in the…"

He silences her with a quick slashing gesture and nods in the direction of Bruce Wayne's massive house and then again at the massive garage _behind_ the massive house, where a beautiful black Lamborghini is just…chilling out in the open.

Holy _shit_.

That's when Artemis remembers Robin didn't leave the eggs in of the Cave.

"Don't you even thi— _Flaming shit-balls_!"

He's gone. Of course he's gone.

Her eyes scan the grounds, and she makes a bee-line for Conner, who seems to have lost all sense the moment he sees the car. He isn't even attempting to hide as he stares.

" _Boys_ ," Artemis says under her breath, like a curse. All they care about is tits and tech. _Honestly_.

She grabs Conner's sleeve and yanks him into the shadows of the (you guessed it) massive marble fountain in the yard, shooting a quick glance toward the brightly lit windows of the manor. M'gann phases into visibility beside them. Kaldur and Robin, however, are nowhere to be seen.

"Link us up," Artemis commands under her breath, her skin crawling. "We need to leave."

M'gann nods. _Link established_ , the Martian says.

 _Alright, guys,_ Artemis says immediately. _We've done it. Let's—Robin!_

Robin's materialized about thirty meters from them, crouching beside the Lamborghini. He juggles an egg in his hand and winds up, arm snapping forward as he launches his projectile at what must be a side-door to the garage, considering the sound it makes when he nails his target. Kaldur, who Artemis assumes was following Robin, is too late to stop him from throwing two more eggs, in quick succession.

He's also too slow to stop Robin from flipping over the hood of the car, disappearing on the other side. Kaldur goes in pursuit, but it looks like he has no luck catching up with the acrobat. The only sign that Robin is still in the area at all are his quiet giggles and the blurs of white zipping through the air. It doesn't look like any of his missiles have hit the car yet, but it's only a matter of time.

Screw this. Screw Robin. Screw Batman. Screw it all.

Artemis ignores the chatter through the mind-link and marches her way across the yard. She doesn't realize Superboy and Miss Martian have followed her until she pulls up short, skidding on her heels and then shifting her weight to the balls of her feet, ready to bolt, as the side door to the manor _fucking swings open_.

There's no hiding. There's no running. Not this time.

Artemis' heart lodges in her throat as Bruce Wayne, dressed in a dress shirt, loosened tie, and slacks, takes a step onto the stoop, light spilling from the room behind him.

Pale blue eyes pass over her, Conner, and M'gann, and Artemis swears her blood freezes in her veins the very moment she makes eye contact with the man, his expression carefully composed. She feels vulnerable, exposed in the most chilling and downright uncomfortable way, and damn if Bruce Wayne doesn't have some sort of soul-eating vision. She didn't even feel this way when she first met Superman, who has _actual_ X-ray vision.

Mr. Wayne's steely gaze snaps from hers as Robin launches out of a single-handed handspring and lands perfectly in direct view of the billionaire, his last two eggs primed and ready for launch.

If there is anything more terrifying than getting caught trespassing in Bruce Wayne's yard, it's watching Robin and Bruce Wayne go motionless, staring each other down, as if daring the other to make the first move. Kaldur, ashamed and apologetic, somehow manages to take a step forward but doesn't get further than that, the tension in the air thick enough to steal the breath from the group's lungs and cement their feet to the ground.

At least, that's how it feels to Artemis. She can't breathe, she can't move, and the seconds inch by, crawling into what feels like hours.

The last time she froze like this was when the Reds had taken over the Mountain, and she vowed then she'd never freeze like that again. She vowed she'd never feel so useless and powerless again.

Ha. So much for that. After Bruce Wayne has his turn, she's going to _kill_ Robin for putting her in this position.

It's Robin (surprise, surprise) who moves first. Slowly, deliberately, he reaches his arm straight over the hood of the Lamborghini, turning the hand holding his last two eggs. Palm down, eggs inches from the glossy paint job, he hovers for the briefest second before casually bringing his hand to the car and cracking the eggs between his fingers. His eyes do not leave Bruce Wayne's as he smears yolk in lazy circles across the hood.

And Wayne just stares, impassive and unimpressed.

(Is that what it's like to be rich? To watch some snot-nosed kid rub raw egg onto your four-hundred-thousand-dollar car and not give a damn?)

Oh my God, how does he keep his face so straight? It's freaking Artemis out. Surely he has a tell when he's angry? No nostril flare? No raised eyebrows or clenched jaw?

(Her father has tells. There was always comfort in knowing exactly when he was going to take a swing at you).

But it seems Bruce Wayne is not Lawrence Crock, and she's never been more intimidated or confused because of that very reason.

(She doesn't understand why isn't Mr. Wayne doing anything. Why isn't he saying anything. Robin just provoked him, and they're all standing around doing nothing _why?_ )

Finally, _finally_ , Bruce Wayne speaks, his deep voice clear and emotionless. "Was that necessary?"

Robin straightens, and with an easy grin, he pushes his sunglasses up into his wild black hair.

Suddenly, everything makes sense. M'gann makes a small squeal of recognition beside her, and Artemis wants to scream.

Richard Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne and orphaned circus kid, attendee of Gotham Academy, Mathletes co-captain, and _Robin, the fucking Boy Wonder_ in his spare time, apparently, turns back to his guardian, crosses his arms, and answers cheerily, "If you're going to treat me like a child, I'm going to behave like one."

He doesn't sound like Robin. Robin, she realizes with a jolt, has a carefully crafted Jersey accent. Richard Grayson, however, spent his formative years traveling the world with Haley's Circus, and his accent is the sum of his parts: it's indefinable, a patchwork of culture and history and experience.

"I see." Mr. Wayne looks around, taking note of the mess his ward left with analytical eyes, and that's when it hits her, like one of Conner's lucky punches during training, and it sends her mind reeling, trying to find a hole in her logic, anything to prove herself wrong.

Because if she's right…that will just be the cherry on top, won't it?

"No, I don't think you do," Richard says to his guardian. "Because that's not all."

Only now do Bruce Wayne's eyebrows raise. A silent question. A _please, by all means, do continue_.

"Since I'm an emotionally stable human being capable of something called apologies," Richard says, "I will say sorry. And I'll even give you a hug, to show you just how much I mean it."

He does just that, enunciating his "I'm sorry" very clearly and then darting forward to wrap his arms around Mr. Wayne's ribs. The older man's arms twitch, as though he wants to pull Robin close, but he also looks momentarily uncertain.

Maybe he's only just realizing how insane his ward truly is.

"And you know what else, Bruce?" Rob—Richard says, pulling away. "Because I take _responsibility for my actions_ —" It sounds like he's flinging words back at his mentor "—I will clean this up. Without Alfred's help."

An elderly man, who must be none-other than Alfred himself, pokes his head around Mr. Wayne's shoulders and surveys the damage. "Indeed you will, Master Dick," says Alfred in a crisp British accent, and Richard steps back, clasping his hands behind his back, a sheepish, distinctly _not_ -Robin smile on his face. "And I hope you have an _equally_ sincere apology for your friends. I have to wonder if you haven't scared a good year or two off their lifespans with your theatrics."

Robin turns his big blue eyes toward them, and he smiles. "Sorry, guys."

Alfred clears his throat, and Richard winces. "I _sincerely_ apologize for dragging you into family drama," he corrects, and with a quick glance toward Alfred, he adds, "But I needed to prove a point, and it really was about damn time, in my—"

Artemis takes a deep breath, then another, and lashes out, interrupting him with a furious, "You absolute _dick_!"

"Yup, one-hundred-percent Dick here," Dick laughs. Flouncing up to Kaldur, he extends a hand. "It's nice to 'officially' meet you. I'm Richard, but all my friends call me Dick. And that over there's Batman, if you hadn't already guessed."

" _Dick_ ," Bruce Wayne _growls_ , and yup, that's the Batman voice, and Artemis is dying on the inside.

Dying and combusting are synonymous, right?

Dick offers his hand to a confused Superboy and a floundering M'gann before he stops before Artemis and says with twinkling blue eyes, "And I think I know you from somewhere, don't I?"

Artemis is reminded of a shrimpy little freshman who ran up to her on her first day of Gotham Academy, snapped her picture, and dashed away as quickly as he'd appeared. "I'm not laughing yet, Grayson," she says.

Dick Grayson grins at her, eyes alight. "Well," he sighs, turning away and eyeing Bat—Bruce again. "That was fun, but I have a feeling I'm about to get a Lecture. Why don't you guys head inside while I clean up and accept the consequences of my actions? Alfred…?"

"Of course, Master Dick," Alfred says primly. "I'll just—"

There's a _whoosh_ of wind and the acrid smell of burning rubber, and Wally skids to a stop right before the side-door.

"I swear I had _nothing_ to do with this, Bruce!" Wally exclaims breathlessly. His words are nearly blending together in his haste, and he kicks off what remains of his shoes. That's his third pair in as many months, Artemis knows. His parents won't be happy. "Not a thing! I had no idea what he was planning, otherwise I would have t—Oh."

Wally notices that the rest of the original team is staring at him, and Dick laughs. "Too late, Walls, sorry."

Wally heaves a sigh. "You're an _idiot_ , Rob." With a weak wave, he adds, "Hi, guys. Bruce. Alfred."

Bruce Wayne's mask has finally cracked, but Artemis isn't sure if he's amused, defeated, or about to _lose_ it on their asses. Maybe it's all three.

Alfred, bless his soul, responds to Wally with, "Good evening, Master Wallace. Did you run all the way from Keystone?"

"Yeah, Alf. Had to ditch Uncle Barry. He understood when I showed him the picture Artemis sent me."

"What _picture_?" Bruce demands.

"Chill, B," Dick says. "I will wipe it from existence later."

It looks like Alfred wants to sigh, but he's a professional, obviously accustomed to a manner of crazy antics from the two Bats in his household. "Alright, come on then, the lot of you. Let's leave them to it. I will make some sandwiches, as I'm sure you're famished after your…misadventures tonight."

"Thanks, Alfie," Dick says, true appreciation in his voice, even as his body language tells a different story.

He's bracing himself. Closing himself off. Preparing for an argument and for disappointment, that all these theatrics won't reach the man he looks up to, respects…and very obviously loves.

Alfred herds them all in through the door and into the kitchen, instructing them to kindly remove their shoes, and Artemis is the last one in. As the door closes, she hears a garden hose starting and Bruce Wayne's deep baritone as he says, "…I admit I'm impressed."

~…~

"So you knew?"

Wally fiddles with his hot cocoa mug, twisting it around in his hand, and avoids making eye contact with her. With all of them.

The five of them sit in a rather cozy, lived-in den, and Artemis is glad of it because if Alfred settled them in any of the obscenely opulent rooms they saw during their walk through the manor, she would have felt inadequate and very, very small. Not to mention uncomfortable. Because come _on._ A girl from the East End? Allowed inside Wayne Manor? _Sitting_ inside Wayne Manor, eating Bruce Wayne's food prepared by Bruce Wayne's butler?

She tries not to think about it, but she can't think of anything _else_. How can she, after Robin's information dump tonight?

She can hardly believe it. Robin is none-other than Dick Grayson, and Bruce Wayne is Batman, and if that isn't enough, Robin asked them to help him break into his own home— _Batman's home_ —to chuck eggs and prove a point. Multiple points, actually, not the least of which must have stemmed from a heated fight prior to Robin's arrival at Mount Justice.

It's…incredible, honestly. And impossible to process.

Artemis spent the last twenty minutes in silence, trying to align her memories of the Dynamic Duo with those of Gotham's Darlings, and it's not going so well, with her mind supplementing new meaning and new interpretations and new _everything_ to every last one of those memories, rendering their previous, pristine lines obsolete and replacing them with the equivalent runny watercolor.

It's messy, but she supposes it isn't ugly. She can live with it, and maybe one day, she can even learn to accept it without having the odd sensation that reality is slipping out from under her.

"Wally?" M'gann presses when he doesn't answer.

"Yeah," Wally finally answers. "I found out years ago. Well before we started this team." He brings his gaze to meet hers, lips twitching into a wry smile. "I was sworn to secrecy. At this point, it's as much my secret as it is theirs."

Artemis suspected as much, and though she tries to rationalize it, the lies do not sit well with her.

She doesn't like being played for a fool.

"Understandable," Kaldur says calmly. "Bruce Wayne is an internationally recognized public figure."

"And Rob—I mean, Richard…" M'gann begins.

"He prefers Dick," Wally interjects helpfully. "His parents called him that."

"Dick, then." M'gann folds her hands in her lap and peers down at her fingers. "When I first came to Earth, you know I was very taken by celebrity gossip."

"Still are," Conner mutters.

M'gann shoots him an exasperated look. "When I first heard about Bruce Wayne," she continues, "and the poor boy he'd taken in after he lost his parents…I read up on them because they both have such tragic stories, and I thought it was a wonderful, maybe even beautiful, twist of fate that they found each other. I never realized…"

Conner nods, picking up where M'gann left off. "Of course it makes sense they would keep this close to the chest. If they're as famous as M'gann says they are, neither of them can be associated with the Gotham vigilantes if they wish to continue operating as they do."

"I've read they've had some trouble keeping Child Protective Services off their backs, too," M'gann whispers, drawing her knees to her chest. "If word got out, Dick could lose everything. Mr. Wayne too. _Again_."

Artemis shudders. Everyone in Gotham is intimately familiar with the story of Martha and Thomas Wayne's deaths. They had a prominent role in Gotham then, and their son continued to mold and change and improve the city in their name. Some go so far as to say the Wayne family alone—or rather, the deaths of Bruce Wayne's parents—shaped Gotham as the world knows it today.

None of them talk about Mary and John Grayson like they do Martha and Thomas, though some of the kids at school do, if only to get a rise out of Dick, and Artemis thinks that's a damn (and disgusting) shame. Their kid is a hell of a hero. No doubt they were heroes, too.

"Ensuring their personal safety is only one of the reasons it's the most well-kept secret in the Justice League," Wally admits. "Bruce funds the JLA publicly, which isn't much different than Oliver Queen and other philanthropists out there, but Batman and Robin _know_ things, you know? And if they're compromised, guess who else is?"

"The rest of the JLA," Artemis answers, the enormity of it all overwhelming her. "Us. Some of the villains, too."

"Bingo." Sweeping a hand through his windblown hair, Wally leans back and sets his empty mug aside. "Uncle Barry's drilled it into me since I was twelve. Bruce did too. And he's…intense, as I'm sure you're all _keenly_ aware."

"Robin didn't want you with us tonight," Artemis remembers, thinking aloud. "No wonder."

"Yeaahhhh, if I'd known what he was up to, I might've talked him out of it. Or at least tried to talk him out of airing out his dirty laundry in front of you guys. But you know what they say: you can take a kid out of the circus…"

M'gann giggles. "He's a showman through and through, isn't he?"

"It is a part of him," Kaldur says.

"You don't know the half of it," Wally laughs. Sobering, he adds, "It's an honor to know, you know. Only the core of the Justice League knows their identities. And maybe a few others."

"Unreal," Artemis breathes.

"So why would Robin tell us now?" Conner asks. "After all this time?"

Wally shrugs and takes a sandwich from the platter Alfred left for them. "Hell if I know. He's an odd bird. But…"

"What?" Artemis asks.

"If I were to venture a guess," Wally says, "he's gotten fed up keeping it secret."

Artemis scoffs. "He _thrives_ on secrets. And I know for a fact he's had a blast trolling us with his secret identity."

"But he also isn't Batman," Wally says. "He's so violently _not Batman_ that he had to tell us, for his own sanity's sake."

"…I don't understand," M'gann says.

"Look at it this way." Wally shifts so that one leg is folded under him on the couch and he's facing the rest of the room. "Bruce puts on his socialite, playboy face for his parties and galas. He makes sure there's something for the gossip rags to eat up every so often so no one gets too close. Then he has to turn around and put on a business face at Wayne Enterprises because otherwise, his family company would be run by a corrupt board of directors, and they'd probably all eat him alive and destroy Gotham while they're at it. In the privacy of home, he's none of these people. Instead, he's a father-figure, a mentor, a trainer. And at night? He's someone else again. He's Batman. So…who _is_ Bruce Wayne at the end of the day?

"Bruce can compartmentalize. He's good at it. He can handle it. Dick…can, if necessary, but that doesn't mean he wants to. I mean, who _would_ want that?"

"Besides Bruce, you mean?"

Wally yelps in surprise, and the rest of group whirls in their seats to see Dick standing in the doorway of the den. "Dude!" Wally says. "How long have you been standing there?"

The younger boy laughs and shrugs. "Long enough, I guess." Padding into the room and standing a bit awkwardly, he nurses a mug he brought in with him and says, "Wally's right: I was sick and tired of having to lie and watch my tongue around you guys. We've been with the team from the beginning. It was time."

"Even though Batman does not approve?" Kaldur asks.

"Don't worry about Bruce. It was my decision, and he knows it. He's actually a little surprised I haven't told you all sooner." The shock shows on all their faces, and Dick's lips twitch into a smile. "He's…a bit of a weirdo. He won't deny it outright if you say so to his face, too. It's kinda funny."

"You get away with calling Batman a weirdo?" Conner asks incredulously.

Dick grins. "I get away with a lot. Especially when I'm right. And besides, Bruce is a really big softie underneath all the growling and… _looming_."

Artemis can't see it, but everyone with eyes knows Robin is the light to Batman's dark. Maybe it's the same in their lives under the mask too.

No…it's no maybe, is it?

The Richard Grayson of Gotham Academy always smiles, always has time to help, always has a kind thing to say or a joke to tell. He's somehow everyone's friend, apart from a few punks who have nothing better to do with their lives than make others' miserable, and when she thinks about it like that, she can see how Dick can bring out the best in anyone, even (and perhaps especially) someone like Bruce Wayne.

"So you're not in trouble?" M'gann asks. "After all that?"

"No patrol for one to two weeks," Dick answers. "I couldn't really tell because Bruce couldn't really decide. He's not so good with the guardian thing sometimes." Wally chokes on his fifth sandwich and coughs around his laughter at that. Artemis dutifully thumps him on the back. "It sucks either way," Dick adds, "but what can you do?"

"You can start by maybe not egging your house and your dad's Lamborghini?" Conner says.

"He's not my dad." Dick takes a sip of his cocoa and looks a little contrite for snapping when he raises his head again. "But close enough."

Wally composes himself and shoots Dick a strange look that goes ignored. Artemis knows better than to ask about it, so instead, she plays of Conner's suggestion. "Or, you know, you could not lie to your friends about why you want to do something as stupid as egg your house and your dad's Lamborghini?"

"I didn't lie."

"…what?"

"I didn't lie," Dick repeats. "Bruce really did incorporate a lot of tech into his system, including stuff from LexCorp, and even though I might've had that recording of Bruce giving me permission to try to break into the manor grounds for…a few years now, it's real. Tonight was the first time I successfully managed to get that far without him or Alfred catching me." Grinning proudly, Dick sets his mug on the end table and crosses his arms. "He's constantly updating the security and its programing whenever I'm not looking, and I never tell him when I'm going to try to break in. It's a game we play."

Artemis blinks and then snorts. Of course. How silly of her to think otherwise.

"Some game," Conner comments.

"He was impressed," Dick says, sitting himself down on the plush carpet and sprawling out before the crackling fireplace. "And I…think I got what I wanted out of it. We'll see."

"…do you mind me asking what you wanted, Ro—Dick?" M'gann asks timidly. "Why you did this?"

Usually, Robin would shut them down after such a personal question, but Dick smiles brightly. "I wanted a little bit of freedom. And an apology for trying to keep me in when Two-Face got out again this week. I got beat up pretty bad earlier this year, and he's been a controlling jerk ever since."

Artemis understands that. Ollie was the same way, at the beginning, but he always stepped back whenever she held her ground, deciding to trust her to know what she could and couldn't handle. Now that she's proven herself, he's much more hands-off, and she appreciates that.

Bruce Wayne, however, sounds like the type who digs his heels in and doesn't budge.

"We got into an argument about it," Dick continues. "He said some things, and I said some things, and it…wasn't very pretty, but I think we're okay. For now."

"Glad to hear it, bro," Wally says.

There's a comfortable silence, and Artemis catches herself staring into the fire.

"Thanks for going along with it," Dick says suddenly. "I understand you guys might be a little angry, and I'll take that, but—"

"Dick?" M'gann interrupts, a fond smile in her voice.

"Yeah?"

"You asked me to trust you tonight. Thank you for trusting _us_."

Dick looks touched for a moment before he chuckles and brushes off M'gann's words. "Don't thank me," he chuckles. "I'm grateful to be free of the secret. At least with all of you. We can have more nights like this, and that's awesome. I don't have friends over often, and when I do, it's—Oh! Before I forget, you're all _totally_ welcome to stay the night. Actually, please do. I can't patrol tonight anyway."

"Glad we're your first choice after _patrol_ ," Wally teases drily.

Dick reaches over to the coffee table, fishes a mini-marshmallow from the open pack, and flicks it at him. It nails the speedster right between the eyes, and before Artemis knows it, marshmallows are flying, and the boys are trying to catch them midflight in their mouths. Wally cheats with his super speed, so Dick encourages Kaldur and Conner to team up with him.

M'gann and Artemis enjoy watching them goof around, but eventually they join the boys' crusade until the marshmallow bag is empty and Wally's groaning on the floor.

And it's like a regular night at Mount Justice, like Robin's mask never came off at all. Dick is more open than Robin—and he smiles the sunniest smile Artemis has ever seen on his face whenever they call him his given name instead of his chosen one—but he's got the same sharp wit, the same humor, the same presence, and it's so familiar, so fun, she can forget they're at Wayne Manor…and that she ever knew Dick and Robin as separate people at all.

She doesn't realize how much time has passed until there's a light knock on the door jam, and Alfred enters, bearing a pile of blankets and linens. He's already called their guardians to inform them they'll be staying the night, and as he steps out again to hunt down some pillows and make them some more snacks, Dick leaps to his feet and offers to split the tasks, taking on the hunt for more pillows while Alfred focuses on the food.

"It's the least I can do for forcing unexpected company on you tonight, Alfred," is Dick's argument when the butler protests.

Artemis slides out from under Wally's arm and says she'll help too, which seems to mortify Alfred for all of about five seconds before he understands what she's really after: a moment to talk with Dick alone.

So Artemis finds herself trailing after Dick, who has a definite skip in his step and turns a few careless cartwheels when he has the space to do so.

Everything is starting to come together, and as she watches Dick almost literally bounce off the walls, she wonders who else Robin could possibly have been if not Dick Grayson.

(Little does she know now that the title of Robin will belong to others, all eager and zany and _good,_ and all worthy in their own right).

"You're a piece of work, Grayson," Artemis begins. "You know that, right?"

"You know you love me, Crock," responds Dick.

She isn't about to admit it, but she does. The cretin's the little brother she never had, and the longer she spends absorbing everything, the more hilarious this entire situation becomes. "This doesn't change anything at school, does it?" she asks.

Dick considers for a moment before saying, "Nah. You're friends with Babs and Bette, and I'm friends with Babs and Bette. It's about time our circles integrated a little bit more, don't you think?"

He's looking at her for actual confirmation, blue eyes big and guileless, and she realizes that over the last few months, Dick Grayson's already started inching into her life at school, in the smallest, most gradual of ways, and damn if he isn't a smart little twerp. He's already planned for this. He's been planning this for months, setting the stage to prevent any curious (or nosy) heads from turning their way.

She strikes quickly, capturing him under arm and rubbing her knuckles into his head. It's something of a challenge she issued herself months ago, but Robin somehow always manages to wiggle away from her, no matter the strength of her headlock. It's nice to try it out with Dick too, and she revels in the scowl on his face when he slips away. Serves him right.

"Sure," she says easily.

Beaming, Dick says, "Thanks, Artemis."

"Stop thanking people for being your friends," Artemis snaps. "It's weird. And a little pathetic." Dick snorts at that, and Artemis smiles at him. "You had to bribe me over here, anyway, didn't you?"

Stopping in front of a closet, Dick shuffles through and hands over a stack of pillows. "Huh?"

"You owe me, remember?" she jokes. "Broadway tickets?"

Wally, as it just so happens, is one of the biggest closet musical nerds ever. He and his mom see at least two musicals a year, and they've done this ever since he was very little. His mom's passion for the theater spurred his own, and listening to him and Mrs. West sing their favorite songs whenever they set the table for dinner is probably the most endearing thing she's ever seen.

When Robin offered to make her participation in his crazy plan worth her while, she didn't think: she just blurted that it would be nice to take Wally to Broadway proper for their second anniversary. Even though it's been on her mind for awhile, she had said it with every last ounce of sarcasm in her body, knowing it was illogical to ask and knowing most normal people couldn't possibly promise something like that. She never expected him to say, _"Easy. Done_."

Now she sees why he did. He's not exactly lacking for money.

"Oh. Right. Who says I haven't already paid it forward?"

Artemis blinks around her pillows. "Um, what?"

Dick grins. "You may or may not have two tickets to The Book of Mormon waiting at your apartment."

"How did you…? You're shitting me."

"I shit you not," Dick says. "Those were meant to be Wally's birthday gift, I admit, but I had a feeling they'd serve a greater purpose, and I just so happened to find something better for his birthday anyway."

Artemis is speechless. "Um…I can't…I mean…"

"I'm not taking them back," Dick says sternly, and Artemis doesn't doubt it. "I made a promise. I keep promises. I was just very lucky to have what I did on hand."

"Lucky," Artemis manages to chuckle, and her chest swells with affection. "Thanks, Dick. I owe you. Truly."

He hums happily, and taking his pile, he closes the closet door and leads them back through the manor. They happen to pass Bruce's study just as the man himself pops his head out into the corridor. He must have heard their approach.

"Going out, B?" Dick asks casually.

Bruce nods. "Don't break anything while I'm gone. And I need hardly remind you the Cave is off limits."

Rolling his eyes, Dick mockingly salutes and says, "Aye-aye, captain. I'll have my communicator either way."

" _Dick…_ "

"For emergencies only, I know, I know. C'mon, B. I'm taking my punishment like a man."

Maybe Artemis is hallucinating, but there's something like a glint of amusement in the man's eyes. Even so, the man keeps a severely straight face as he looks between them and at the towers of pillows they carry. "Hm. Looks like you're feeling well and truly punished."

"Yes, I'm feeling _most_ punished right now."

"Cheeky monkey," Bruce huffs, and that startles a laugh from Artemis, who tries to cover it up with a cough. "Perhaps I ought to do what every other parent does and ground you from your friends, too, next time."

"I love how you assume there'll be a next time," Dick says.

And, miraculously, Bruce Wayne's lips twitch into a smile. A genuine smile. "Have a good night, Dick." He nods at Artemis. "Miss Crock."

"Y-yeah, you too, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce," Bruce Wayne insists.

"Calling him Mr. Wayne makes him feel _old_ ," Dick reveals in a loud whisper.

"No, being called Mr. Wayne feels like I brought work home with me, and I hate that."

"Whatever you say, B."

Bruce exchanges a long-suffering look with Artemis before he closes the study door firmly behind him.

"Stay safe!" Dick calls after him. "I'm not going to be there to watch your back!" Dropping his tone, he says to Artemis, "Like I said. Big softie."

"I'll take your word for it," Artemis says.

Dick sighs something under his breath and keeps up a steady stream of chatter as they make their way back to the den, where they find Wally regaling the others with a story about a prank he and Dick once tried to pull on Alfred, who, having just arrived with a fresh tray of hot cocoa and snacks, supplements Wally's story with sarcastic and downright hilarious comments about the failed prank from his own point of view.

M'gann's laughing so hard she has tears on her face, and she grasps Conner's arm as she doubles over. Wally is breathless and flushed, and both Conner and Kaldur are laughing, too. Not chuckling. _Laughing._

 _We'll laugh about this someday_ , Dick said, when she met him for the first (and second?) time.

Looking around at her friends and watching Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder, bombard the group with pillows, she laughs, too.

Yeah, she'll give him that one.

* * *

(1) The Red Wedding: a plot twist in Game of Thrones that literally ALL fans know to avoid spoiling for new viewers. That's all I'll say about that. ;)

I may have taken some liberties with the YJ timeline as well as Dick Grayson's personal timeline, but I hope it all makes sense. I had fun writing this. Plowed through it like a runaway train, actually. It will have mistakes, I bet, but I hope you enjoyed the read!


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